


Galactic Terrorist

by SteveCaster



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 18:16:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15824322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteveCaster/pseuds/SteveCaster
Summary: Mallard thinks joining a street gang is his best chance of survival until he meets an enemy of the Federation.





	Galactic Terrorist

Mallard had come to realize that being a gang member was vital to survival. When he’d first deserted and left the upper levels, he’d tried to survive on his own but he’d witnessed too many loners being attacked. Even though his Federation hand combat training had seen him safe thus far, he knew it was only a matter of time before his luck ran out. So that left the life of a gang member.  
Nandy was the gang leader. He studied the bracelet. “This is what you bring me you street rat? You think this will buy my protection?”  
Mallard knew better than to answer and waited for the next outburst. “What use are you? This trinket will fetch nothing!”  
But as he raised his arm ready to strike, the bracelet chimed. Nandy stood frozen, arm waiting above his head, his anger temporarily cooled.  
“Vila, respond,” came a woman’s voice. Nandy’s eyes gleamed. What was this? No technology was permitted on the lower levels. If he was found with some he would be punished. And with prisons dotted about all over the lower levels, the chances of being discovered was high.  
“Go!” he yelled, hurling the bracelet at Mallard and lashing out with his boot. Mallard dodged the kick and hurriedly retreated, clutching the bracelet. He would never be accepted into the gang now. But that name, Vila. He’d heard it before. If he could only remember where…

 

Vila looked around disconsolately. It had been a stupid plan, he’d been foolish to allow himself to be talked into it. He was usually so discerning. What had gone wrong? Oh yes. Blake had said it was fool proof. Somehow Vila had believed him. He made a mental note to go with his intuition next time.  
What had happened? His head was still spinning. Blake and the others had wanted access to the upper levels and then…? They’d been spotted by a patrol… an explosion… he’d been thrown clear but when he’d regained consciousness there had been no sign of the others. He moved his hand to his bracelet. Nothing. Vila checked his other arm. Just to be sure, he checked his left arm again. The bracelet was gone. No wonder he hadn’t teleported. Attempting to quell the panic rising inside him, he began to crawl around the alley, desperately searching.  
“Got a light?” a voice from the fog. A ramshackle man appeared through the gloom.  
“I don’t use,” Vila’s voice trailed off as he noticed several other men advancing on his position. “Look, I don’t have anything, really,” he tried to sound convincing and put on his best smile. But considering his vision was swimming he couldn’t be sure what he was smiling at.  
A bright light pierced the gloom.  
“Who’s there?” a voice shouted, probably Federation. The men seemed to melt away and soon the light shone solely on Vila. “What do you know of the explosion that happened here?”  
“Me? Nothing. I was just minding my own business when this whole area blew up.”  
“Show your documents.”  
“I can’t seem to find them. They must have been incinerated by the blast.” Even to Vila it sounded unlikely but it was the best he could manage. Unconvinced, Federation officer took Vila into custody. Before Vila passed out, he wondered if Blake would mount a rescue as he had done when Cally had been captured.

 

Mallard retraced his steps to where he’d found the bracelet. Surely the half dead man he’d found in the alley couldn’t have been Vila? He hadn’t looked anything like the villain the VisCasts had portrayed him as. In fact, he looked about as far from a galactic terrorist as it was possible to look. He reached the area in time to see Federation guards manhandling a figure into a prison cell. Well whoever it was, he was on the wrong side of the Federation and that suited Mallard fine. Cautiously, he crept forwards.

As soon as Vila came round he knew his situation had worsened. Same headache, blurred vision and darkness but he now seemed to be in a small cell. Struggling to his feet he felt his way to the door and located the lock. While he attempted to override it, he became aware of a scratching sound on the outside. For a brief moment he wondered if it was Avon but as the door gave way the face before him was not one he recognized.  
“Vila?” asked the man. Vila remained non comital and fell over instead.

He woke in a shelter, little more than a lean-to. However, it was far more preferable to where he had been hours earlier. As his vision came into focus, he spotted his bracelet on top of a small box.  
“So you’re awake? Don’t try and move too much. I think you’ve still got a concussion. I’m Mallard.”  
Vila said his name and chanced his luck by asking for the bracelet back. To his surprise, Mallard returned it to him.  
“It’s been chiming on and off for the past hour and every now and again it talks,” Mallard said.  
Mallard explained who he was and how he had defected. That the atrocities he’d committed in the name of the Federation had left him hollow and consumed by self-loathing. He’d been looking for Blake, looking to join up. He wanted absolution for his sins.  
Vila wasn’t sure if he believed the man. He hadn’t survived this long by trusting others. Still he let Mallard talk, partly because it hurt to speak.  
“So if you could just contact Blake and explain, then perhaps I could come aboard,” concluded Mallard.  
As if on cue, the bracelet sprang to life.  
“Vila, respond please.”  
As Vila reached to press the communicator, he heard a chilling sound. The marching of boots. Mallard’s eyes widened. Vila knew how the Federation treated deserters.  
“Teleport,” he wheezed.


End file.
